


You are the only sight I need.

by VeryBadMau



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 18:58:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15371193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryBadMau/pseuds/VeryBadMau
Summary: Understanding the weight beneath her newly bestowed epithet, she brushes his hand aside and places a kiss to the hollow scar. Isis/Pegasus, Sightshipping. 1K one-shot.





	You are the only sight I need.

**Author's Note:**

> My chapters concerning these two always tend to be a little long winded, so I beset a challenge to myself to write a story with them that is 1,000 words or less. I hit it right on the nose with 1,000. Phew! (The word "END" doesn't count. Pfft!)
> 
> Also, I did my best researching what I could with the Arabic terminology. If you are a fluent speaker in the language and wish to correct me, please feel free to drop a note so I can edit accordingly.
> 
> EDIT: Much thanks to the user Pegasus.PinkBunny over on FF.net for correcting me. It has been fixed.
> 
> Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! and its characters are copywritten to Kazuki Takahashi and Konami. I own nothing except the sparkly Valentine hearts clinging to the waves of my imagination and a functioning computer.

 

Pegasus always had a talent for nicknames, but as he traces his thumb over the small, ornate box in his hand, his penchant is challenged.

 

Pegasus also has a talent for languages. It is not so much as to be fluent in an instant, but his skills are certainly as such to understand when ill is being spoken of him, and to speak well enough to prick tender sensibilities when he wants it.

 

“Kaiba-chan” would have been far too coquettish for any occasion, but Kaiba- _boy_ has such a nice ring to it, and Pegasus has enough grasp on Japanese to know the translation is not far off. Even when the young brunette crossed the threshold into his 20s, the nickname still causes his lips and fists to curl as Pegasus utters it over a glass of Margaux at yet another business function. Yugi-boy, on the other hand, has more grace and none of the ego, and he laughs as he shakes Pegasus' hand while he proposes another mechanic for the game.

 

The box turns over in his hand, fingers dancing along the gold Arabesque patterns among polished lapis lazuli, and he lingers on the thought of proposals.

 

He has been changing her monikers since he knew her.

 

When he placed the Egyptian Gods in the hands of Isis, he used formalities. She started as Miss Ishtar when they met in the hotel, but after they hid the first of the three, when he understood what rested upon her collar, he called her Madame Muad'Dib, and she was only mildly irked at the literary nickname.

 

He thinks it is one of his most creative and fitting to date, a name with as many layers as the woman who bears it. Madame Muad'Dib: the great lady with eyes to the past and future, she among the stars who points the way, she who appears unassuming and survives the trials of the ruthless desert, the teacher and chastiser who pulls his reins and keeps him from running into the abyss.

 

He didn't quite understand why she had been peeved at “Madame Muad'Dib” in the beginning— it is one of the best names he has crafted thus far. He was well aware the name referenced the little desert mice in _Dune_ , yet he learned later that calling an Egyptian woman a jerboa was some sort of licentious claim. When they knew each other better, after she informed him of this “flaw”, he had muttered into her shoulder that that the name was ever more suiting, and he cherished her playful, mock-scandalized gasp before she thumped a pillow over his head.

 

He still uses Madame Muad'Dib, but after fulfilling her duty, after many conversations over the phone, after many trips to Egypt gathering “material” for his game, after his own admittance and her own confession on the true nature of their meetings, he gave her more names. He beseeches her with saccharine declarations of “my beloved”, “my goddess”, “my moon and stars”, “my Venus incarnate”.

 

Of course, these are only his English names for her.

 

Pegasus is not well practiced in written Arabic, but he speaks it well enough to tug at the corners of her mouth and inspirit her eyes when he whispers _habibti_ in her ear, _hayati_ at her neck, _amali_ at her knuckles, _albi_ at her chest, _rohi_ at her navel— his love, his life, his hope, his heart, his soul.

 

He smiles at the memories, for Isis has her own nicknames for him.

 

In public, she calls him by his given name. In private or close company, she speaks with a tongue-in-cheek humor, “loyal mount” and “noble steed” being her personal favorites. He supposes it is inevitable given his namesake, but he did ask her once if she was perhaps mixing her translations and really trying to call him “stud”. She had smiled over the rim of her glass before looking off to the side and humming with a cocked brow, but she never denied or confirmed his suspicion.

 

Isis has always been something of a mystery in one way or another, but he has never doubted the matters pertaining to her heart. Like the light of Venus itself, she shines with devotion, willing to give so much of herself, _all_ of herself, for those she holds dear. Yet Pegasus does not desire a sacrifice or boon on her behalf, but he admits he has always had a greed within him, even before the great and terrible encounter with the Eye—

 

He bites his lip and pounds his fist against his desk at the realization. The challenge is surpassed.

 

_Yes! That's it!_

 

His devil-may-care wiles and ne'er-do-well mannerisms have always been somewhat of a show. Underneath, Pegasus is a planner, a schemer, and he thinks himself clever as he reserves a private spot on a beach in Sharm El Sheikh, a site overlooking the bay as the moonlight bounces off the waves and makes the sand glow.

 

They sit side-by-side and the box of engraved lapis lazuli parts in her hands. He knows she has no affinity for diamonds, so within is a golden ring with the eight-pointed star of her surname, small dots of azurite, malachite, carnelian, and bloodstone upon each ray. At its center, the Eye of Wdjat.

 

“Pegasus, is this...?”

 

“If you will have me,” he nods at her with a small smile, and he places his right hand over the cavity where the Eye once rested.

 

“ _Eini_ ,” he whispers. The literal translation would be lost on most, but he knows it will not be lost on Isis.

 

She is more astonished at the new moniker than the ring in her hands, and her blanched eyes transition to reflect the rays of the moonlight, shimmering in recognition as her lips part with a tender smile.

 

She brushes his hand aside and places a kiss to the hollow scar.

 

“Yes,” she murmurs against his temple, understanding the weight beneath her newly bestowed epithet. “I shall guide you, always.”

 

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> Just what did Pegasus call Isis? 
> 
> The answer is in the title.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
